Tales from Raccoon City: Unrequited - The Story of her Life
by The Lady Frost
Summary: She's always dreaming of him. She'd rather face a hoard of zombies than rejection. She's never backed down from a battle, but she's never faced the truth of how she feels. She's only a coward - when it comes to Leon Kennedy. She's hoping a snowstorm and a few days away just may be the ticket - if she can just stop fighting and open her heart. (short Cleon fluff, smut, and humor)
1. Fantasy

**Unrequited: The Story of her Life**

* * *

**A short story starring**

**Claire Redfield **

**and **

**Leon Kennedy**

* * *

The soap felt amazing against her skin. Claire wondered if there'd ever been anything invented that could compare to soap. She wished she could wash the horror away with the filth.

It was seldom ever like that with what they did. There was little chance to just...let go. She lingered in the tub until her skin pruned and then slid out with a level of regret that was palpable.

She was just slipping on a robe when there was a knock at the door.

Tugging her wet hair free from the collar, she walked to the door and opened it.

Kevin stood watching her, quietly. He was dressed in a plain white t-shirt, a pair of gray sweat pants. His hair, dark and damp and clean. He hadn't shaved, the stubble only adding to the power of his face.

She leaned on the door jamb, looking at him.

"Can I come in?"

With a nod, she stepped back.

The door clicked closed as she leaned against it.

Alone together.

The t.v. was on. She'd turned the sound off but left it on. Stupidly, it made her feel not so alone.

He turned, faced her.

"How're doing?"

She combed her fingers through her hair. "Okay actually. Better with a little soap."

Kevin smiled. "Yeah. Nothin as good as Dove."

Claire thought she'd never wanted to be touched as badly as she did right that minute.

He said, "I wanted to…see how you were."

She smiled. "I'm alright. And what about you?" She ran her hand along the terry cloth sleeve of her robe. "How are you doing?"

Kevin shrugged, looked toward the window.

"Okay. Great. Shitty." He smiled, crookedly. It didn't reach his eyes. "All of the above."

Claire stepped toward him, hesitated, took another step.

She felt the muscles in his back clench as she laid her hand against it.

"Kevin?" She thought her throat might close up.

"Yeah…" His voice, harsh, gruff.

"Touch me."

He turned, her arm sliding over him, resting on his hip.

He looked down into her face, a drowning man.

"Claire…"

"Don't. It can't be about anything else right now. Just touch me. Because you want to. Because I need you to."

He lifted his hands, slid them over her shoulders, down her arms.

She took his face in her hands. "Don't think. Just touch me."

Kevin stared into her face and she saw the moment he gave it all up.

His hands slid down her chest, over the knot in her robe. He watched her eyes while he untied it, parted it, brushed his fingers over the dampness of her belly.

Her eyes fluttered, her breath caught.

He saw what he wanted in her face and slid his hands around her back, over her buttocks and pulled her against him.

She could feel the press of him, hard and hot against her stomach. The sweatpants were soft, the cloth hiding nothing.

He slid himself against her, the friction of the clothes over flesh agonizing, wonderful. With a groan, he closed his eyes, pressed his forehead against hers.

Claire slid her hands into his hair, pushed against him.

There was a knock on the door.

They parted slowly, her fingers trailing over him through the soft cotton.

Kevin shuddered, pressed his mouth against hers, slowly, softly.

Claire tied her robe.

She went to the door, opened it.

She thought her body would explode.

Leon stood there, red hair soft and dry and ruffled, just hanging over his forehead. There was such softness in his eyes, such pain. Without words, she could see the apology, could feel it. And just like that, she forgave him. She would always forgive him.

She took his hand, tugged him into the room.

She knew the moment they saw each other.

There was silence, complete and pregnant; full of things unsaid.

For the first time in a long time, she wasn't afraid.

Leon wore a white under shirt and a pair black of sweat pants similar to Kevin's.

She turned, slid her hands under Leon's shirt, and brushed her fingers over his nipples.

He hissed, tore his gaze from Kevin, and looked into her face.

He needed her. Leon tilted his head down and kissed her.

Their mouths pressed, tongues twining. He bent, slid his arms under her butt and lifted, until she was even with him.

There was the sound of heavy breathing.

Claire moved back, her heart racing. She took his hand and led him with her.

For the first time in his life, Leon didn't want to walk away.

With one hand in Leon's, she opened her other.

Kevin looked at her, at Leon. He knew an offer when he saw one. Even Kennedy was watching him, waiting.

Kevin took her hand.

Claire smiled, softly, seductively and Kevin knew he was sunk.

She turned into Kevin, slid her hands under his shirt and he lifted his arms as she slid it off of him.

_Am I doing this? Do I want to?_

He looked into her eyes and knew he'd never wanted anything more.

She pressed her mouth to his chest, slid her tongue over the dip in his collarbone. Kevin shivered, slid a hand into her hair as his eyes closed.

Her hands found the tie on his sweat pants, slid them down over his hips.

He watched her, lifted his eyes.

Leon was watching him, the laser blue of his eyes alight. Kevin didn't see any jealousy there, any hatred. There was passion, curiosity.

Claire stood slowly, trailing a hand up his thigh, over the heaviness of his sac. Kevin jerked against her hand, gasping.

With a siren's smile, she trailed her nails over his stomach and turned.

Leon met her mouth hungrily, one hand already skimming down her chest, unknotting the robe so he could reach inside and he could cup her.

She moaned, her thighs quivering. She was already damp, already hot.

Her hands grappled with his clothing, worked the under shirt over his head while she sucked at his throat, bit lightly along his left nipple.

With something close to a groan, Leon cupped her breast, shaped it in his palm, his fingers plucking at tight peak of her nipple.

Claire murmured, slid her mouth down his stomach and his body jerked, his head falling back as her deft hands had his pants falling around his ankles.

The heat of her mouth around him had him crying out, softly, one had fisting in her hair.

Hands skimmed over her back, slid along her sides as she drew on him, her tongue slipping along the head of his cock and farther down until he was buried completely in her mouth.

Kevin pressed himself against her, sliding against the softness of her back, as his hand found her, caressed the silky damp of her body.

Claire moaned, the hum of pleasure causing Leon to groan, and push himself against the clever sweetness of her mouth.

She pulled away, rising as Kevin's fingers found the aching point of her desire. She clenched, a cry falling from her lips as she pressed her body back against him, one arm looping around his neck.

Leon stepped into her, his mouth capturing hers, one hand in her hair as they tongues twined, slid together even as Kevin's fingers slid into her body, over the tiny hardened nub of her agony.

Leon pushed the robe down her shoulders, dipped his head and took one of her nipples into the silken prison of his mouth. She gripped his hair with one hand, felt Kevin move back long enough to let the robe drop to the floor before he surged himself against her back again, his hand already caressing her, fingers sliding over, through.

Claire felt her body heating, felt the rapid wave of desire that crashed sharply through her blood.

Leon pressed her breasts together, slid his mouth rapidly between her nipples, took her mouth again.

Kevin's fingers tortured her, so skillful, so maddening.

She panted, writhed, turned her head to take Kevin's mouth as his hand slid upward, and cupped her breast. Leon was on his knees, his hands on her thighs, parting her.

His tongue sliding in her, over her, against the pulsing apex of her body. She shuddered, felt him gripping her thighs, supporting the trembling, liquid weight of her body.

The hard, hot length of Kevin as he rubbed himself along her back, along the soft cleft of her butt cheeks as his hands tortured her breasts, pinched, molded. His mouth slid over her throat and he was kissing her again, tongues dueling.

Claire screamed, her body bowing, caught on the rise of a shining wave. She tumbled, shuddering, screaming into the mouth of the man who drank from her lips as the other drank from the heat of her body.

For a moment, her body quaked as she made the slow, lethargic rise back to sanity. Never in her life had she felt something that amazing, that mind blowing.

She felt gloriously, hopelessly, desperately _alive._

Leon was rising, the glisten of her still on his lips. She lay half cradled in Kevin's arms.

She slid her hand over Leon's hip, tugged him forward as she stepped to the side.

Leon shifted his body, slid an arm under her hips, and lifted her, carrying her to the bed.

She grabbed a handful of the muscle of his back; saw the sparks of white hot desire in his eyes. Leon didn't mind a little pain. It was startling and so totally arousing.

She laid him back against the mattress, scored her nails down his chest, over the delicate bruising on his ribs, the pinking wound near his arm pit. Leon jerked, a startled cry of desire falling from his lips.

Claire crawled onto all fours, gripped the head board as Leon slid against her back, running his lips over her spine, his hands on her hips, lifting her.

She whispered, "Yes."

And he shoved himself into her.

She whimpered, screamed. Kevin lay beside them, one hand tracing over the curve of her stomach, the side of her breast. She met his mouth, slid her tongue over his and felt her body spiraling. She groaned.

His hand slid down her slick belly to play with her clit while Leon plunged into her body. It built like a tidal wave inside of her. She jerked. She gasped. She grunted.

And she came, screaming.

* * *

Claire jerked as the hard knock on the door ripped her from the dream she'd been having.

She wasn't trapped between two beautiful men about to be pleasured until she exploed. Nope. Not even close. She wasn't meant, ever, to be a Claire Sandwich.

She sitting at her desk with a hand in her pants using her eighteen minute lunch break to fantasize, again, about Leon Kennedy. Sometimes he had a companion (usually Kevin Ryman...and his relentless five o'clock shadow that tickled her...everywhere). Sometimes he was alone.

However, he was always eagerly throwing her down to fill her out like an application.

She wouldn't be fantasizing about him so much if she, ever, took the time to get laid. But she hadn't bothered to even pay for it in months. TerraSave was a full time fuck on its own. It often left no time but to lament the loss of her personal life in the wake of bioterror.

Annoyed, Claire tugged her hand from her pants and called, "Yes?"

"Ms. Redfield, I'm sorry to bother you, but you have a phone call."

Of course she did. Because she couldn't get five minutes to herself to masturbate. Nope. Not in the cards for her.

She picked up the phone with a grouch and fussed, "What?"

The amusement in his tone made her wish his face was between her legs, but it hadn't ever been. It wouldn't ever be. Only in her dreams. Damn him.

"You need to get out of that office, kiddo. You sound like shit."

Claire rolled her eyes, watching the skyline. They called it the city of angels. But if their were angels out there, they were flying blind. The smog in LA alone was frightening. If ever there was a city that needed a green initiative, this was it.

"Leon...you need something?" _Me. Say me. Just say me. Please?_

"Yup. I need you to try to get me clearance into Taiwan. There's a bad guy over there making bombs full of viruses."

Claire rolled her eyes. "You want me to grease some palms?" _Put your hand in my pants and I'll grease yours, Kennedy. No lie._

"If you would, kiddo. I'd owe ya. Big time." _I can think of a way for you to pay me back. Bring a friend._

Claire laughed, sighing, "Consider it done. You can add it to the long list of favors you already owe me." _Pay up, Kennedy. Put your money where your mouth is...put your mouth on my money shot._

Lord she was a mess.

"I'll buy ya dinner when I'm in town in a few days."

"It better be surf and turf." _Or me. Just eat me instead._

"Whatever you want, kid. Thanks, Claire Bear. I mean it."

The line clicked. Claire sighed and stared at the dirty skyline. She had about four minutes until her next meeting. She should get ready for all the bullshit politics.

Instead, she stuck her hand in her pants to finish herself off and thought about Leon Kennedy.

The story of her life.

Maybe when she saw him in a few days, she'd finally have the nerve to open her mouth about how she felt and get him out of her heart and right where he belonged...between her desperate thighs.


	2. Speed

**Unrequited: The Story of her Life**

* * *

**A short story starring**

**Claire Redfield **

**and **

**Leon Kennedy**

* * *

**_Chapter 2: Speed_**

* * *

The bus raced down the dangerous highway while the rain beat mercilessly on the tin roof. It pinged, sounding like bullets against body armor, and making the patrons on the bus shiver in fear. There was no slowing down. There was no stopping.

The bomb fused to the accelerator was making damn sure that no one, anywhere, was going to get off this one way trip to _hell._

It was a nightmare.

Gripping the wheel, Claire felt the tears spill wet and warm down her cheeks. The driver was dead in the back. He was finished. The gunshot to the abdomen had finally finished him off merging onto the I-90 corridor. She'd barely reclaimed the wheel from him in time to keep this two ton death wagon for overturning and taking its thirty patrons with it. If she didn't keep this thing moving, they'd all end up road pizza before they ran out of gas.

That was the big risk here. She had to find some gas - soon - because they were down to an eighteenth of a tank and there was no way to determine if this was the very last time any of them would consider public transit.

The terrorist had attached the bomb to teach someone a lesson. Who? It was hard to say. But the truth was that it also didn't matter. Surviving was all that mattered. She had to keep these people alive. She had to. There was a goddamn baby on the bus weeping wildly behind her.

She had no choice but to drive this cursed chariot like Ben-Hur.

She hitched out a breath as the motorcycle whipped between two cars and raced toward them. Curious, she watched it pass by the bus and slow down rolling close and closer until it was lined up with the door. Claire hit the handle and released the hydraulic doors with a hiss of metal gears.

And Leon Kennedy tugged the helmet off his head and let it fall as he called about the roaring wind and engines, "I'm gonna jump aboard, Claire! Hold her steady ok!?"

No! Was he insane? That would _never _work!

But he was doing it anyway.

She held the busy straight as he brought the bike as close to the bus as he dared, balanced the handlebars like a circus performer, and leaped off the back in an action movie homage that left her breathless even as the bus full of patrons cheered him on. He caught the door and Claire's outstretched hand and she jerked him forward into the bus with them.

And cried, "_ARE YOU INSANE!? What the hell is wrong with you!?"_

He patted her arm and soothed, "I'm a hero, Claire. This is what I do. Easy, kid. Breathe."

Patronizing ass.

Who was he kidding!?

And he turned to the bus to inform them, "Another bus is coming. We're going to set a bridge between the two and those of you who can are going to cross it onto the other bus."

Someone called, "What about those of who can't?"

"Wheelchair bound patrons will be carried free. But we're on borrowed time. This highway? It was never completed. In about four miles, the goddamn bridge runs out. And we're all gonna be taking a nose dive to the great beyond."

Jesus Christ. They were screwed.

...and why was this familiar? Why was she having deja vu? Something was off here.

No one questioned him. He was in a tactical vest and boots. He had guns on him. He had great hair. He looked like a guy who knew what he was about. He looked like a hero. He sounded like a cop.

They all believed him.

His presence on the bus put everyone at ease but her. Why? Because her belly always felt funny when he was around. Claire whispered, "What about me? If I let off the gas, the damn bus will explode."

"I know." He touched her shoulder, "Trust me."

She did. But she was terrified.

One by one, the patrons were all lined up and led to the new bus. One by one they were carried or walked to safety with the aid of the agents on the adjacent bus. It was well done. It was a nice rescue.

And then it was her and Leon alone on that bus.

She said, "...ok, hero, what now?"

He grabbed a piece of the rack for bags above her head and snapped it clear. He pressed it down on the pedal where her foot was resting. He wedged it there as the bus gained speed.

"Let go of the wheel and take my hand, Claire. Trust me."

She did. No questions asked. Their rescue bus was gone. Their only hope was hatch in the back where you could open the bus to get to the underneath for repairs. They were going to what...use it like a sled and just...SLIDE OUT!?

WAS HE KIDDING!?

Again - deja vu rolled in her head.

Ignoring it, Claire said, "No. No no no. You can't be serious. We'll fucking die Kennedy. Splat. Smoosh. Crunch. Wedged between pavement and twisted metal...sandwiched. No."

He kicked the metal release. The door hit the pavement and sparked. It screamed. And he said, "Times up for doubt, kid. Let's roll."

Jesus.

She slid down the metal door with him, gripping his vest in both hands. He tucked her against his side, one hand on the small of her back, the other hooked at her hip. Into her ear, he murmured, "Hold on, sweetheart, it's gonna be a bumpy ride."

And the door screamed as it split from the bus. The metal threw fire in a long jagged line along the pavement. The bus kept going, they skidded in circles like a sled gone wrong. The door whipped and spun, Claire put her face in his neck and closed her eyes.

The wind rushed.

The world roared.

The rain was wet on their faces as the door skipped to a stop and thunked against the retaining wall of the highway...eight feet from the end of the road. They watched the bus go over. She heard it roar as it was airborne. She heard it hit beneath in the great beyond. It ticked. It tocked. It tumbled.

It burst and burped fire in a red blaze on the bloody sky. Dusk turned the world pink and purple and scarlet. Her eyes blinked into the rain. It slid down the cleft in his chin as he leaned back to see her.

And he grinned, "See? I'm a hero. It's what I do."

Patronizing ass.

She kinda hated him.

Her hands slid down his vest and hooked around his back. She grabbed handfuls of his ass and his brows shot up into his wet hair. "Yeah? Heroes kiss the girl, Kennedy."

"I'm still on duty, ma'am."

"Yeah? Story of my life." But she still tugged his laughing mouth to hers to kiss him in the rain. There was the sound of sirens approaching.

There was the sound of success coupled with the blazing sky of the wreck of the murderous bus. It was a win for the good guys today. The heroes were triumphant.

And Claire popped their mouths apart to gasp, "You ever get the feeling you're having deja vu?"

Confused, he blinked twice, "No. Are you?"

"Vaguely." The rain made the blue of his eyes look like warm ocean waves. She was drowning in them. Droplets gathered on his lashes, leaving reflections of her flushed face staring back at her.

Her breath hitched as she moaned, "Who cares?" Her hands jerked at his belt. It made no sense at all. They could hear the sounds of approaching rescue vehicles. They were in the pouring rain, on a steaming piece of metal in the middle of a broken highway having survived a bomb on a bus by a madman. There was no time for nookie.

The dress she wore under the denim jacket was easily hiked up. He didn't even argue, bless him. Her panties gave a rip of cloth as they tugged free in his eager hands. The metal teeth of his zipper seemed loud even against the sirens blaring signaling they weren't alone.

Claire angled her hips on the steaming metal. She gathered him free of his tactical gear and stroked the heavy length of him in her damp fist. They kissed until her face throbbed with happiness.

The red and blue flashes of the emergency vehicle lights punctuated their coupling. She heard the shouts of the help arriving even as she braced her feet on his calves and took him. Her needy body stretched to swallow the first desperate thrust. His belt clinked on the ground. Her hands curled like claws into his vest to hold on while he hammered her sucking heat.

EMTS moved over them while they fucked madly. Agents circled the wreckage and ignored them.

It all made perfect sense.

It made perfect sense to be fucking Leon Kennedy in the rain with people all around. His hands hooked under her left knee to anchor her body. It looped her leg up and over his arm. The angle sharpened. Her body seized madly around each surge of his co-

* * *

The alarm was so loud she thought it was her screaming.

Nope.

It was time to wake up.

Face down in the pillow, Claire made a sound like a frustrated sob. Why? Every damn time. Why? Her stupid dreams were getting more explicit.

The night before last it was _Princess Bride_. She brought him back from being "mostly dead" with a blowjob and fucked his body back to life in a pretty blue gown. Tonight, apparently, it was _Speed. _He was the Keanu Reeves to her Sandra Bullock.

A bus full of fear. A flight of fancy. A fuck in the rain. Although they didn't show the fucking in the movie. Apparently, she wasn't going to get the whole show even in her dreams.

Annoyed. Aroused. Unfulfilled.

These were the staples of her existence.

She rose from the bed and lumbered to the shower. The hot water hit her gritty eyes and had her muttering. After, it was two cups of coffee and a trip to the office.

She had a trip to Minnesota this afternoon. The small town of Moose Mountain was waiting for her to arrive and initiate the plans for an all new irrigation system. TerraSave was responsible for cleansing all the T-Virus from the surrounding major cities after a viral outbreak.

To keep the water clear, a new system was being implemented to funnel out residual bacteria and reluctant viral contagions. Even though the population had been vaccinated, the chance of a stray citizens missing out on the public hearing meant eradicating all traces from anything pertaining to populace consumption. Which meant a monumental clean up effort meant to stimulate all potential forms of infection.

Water, air, and waste were the major factors in infection. So they were the first to be monitored and controlled. After that, it was a matter of making sure the population was informed and protected. Inoculation was standard now with most infants. It wouldn't be long before the T-Virus was stopped at birth.

It was a huge concern in third world countries where there was no access to standard healthcare. But America was a leader in vaccination. It was easy to get it federally mandated for infants at birth.

She was standing in the cold gray air of the Minnesota winter, waiting for her UBER, when a black sedan slid to the curb. The tinted windows rolled down. The grinning face poked out.

No dream this time.

The real thing.

And Leon Kennedy mused, "You need a lift, kid?"

_Yep. Get me under the backs of my thighs. I'll do the rest._

Claire laughed, shaking her head. "Don't you have better things to do than pick up boring aid workers in remote cities on freezing mornings?" _Like me. Do me. That's a good start._

He shrugged, "Save the world; play bodyguard for a friend." His hands did the imitation of scales going up and down, "Six in one hand, half dozen in the other."

_You can guard my body anytime, Kennedy. _"Well, I'm glad you're here. The last time they sent that guy Spence. He was so boring. I did everything I could to get him to laugh."

"You moon him? I tried that in Quebec once to shake him up. He's like one of those guards outside Buckingham Palace. Dead pan. Seriously."

She couldn't help it. She pictured him mooning her. Her belly quivered. "You ready to see how the simple folk live?"

"Honey, I was born ready."

_Ready to ride? Ready to roll? Ready to rumble? I'm ready for all three._

She sat beside him as he drove. They laughed. They joked. They talked about Chris and Jill and Barry's granddaughter just born to Polly and her husband Stu. They talked about bikes and bars and which big chested bimbo was currently sleeping with Carlos.

She wondered what he'd do if she just reached over and put her hand in his pants.

The sedan slid down the darkening highway as he mused, "Might see some snow while we're here huh? Haven't seen any since I was in Russia last."

Claire licked her lips twice, trying to focus. "Yeah? What for?"

"What else? Borscht."

She crinkled her nose in disgust. "Don't be gross. Why would you put that shit in your mouth?" _I taste better. I promise you._

"Why not? You know I like to try the local cuisine, CB. Speaking of which, I could get my grub on. You want to stop and chow down?"

Lord.

There was a special roasting place in hell for him for being the stupidest man alive. Because she was betting he wouldn't even get it when she blurted out, "Oh, I can think of a few thinks you could definitely eat your fill of."

"Yeah? What's your pleasure, kid?"

_You._

Practically a genius, they said. Practically an idiot. That was really being unfair. She'd never even flirted with him. She'd never even stared at him. There was no way he could know what she was thinking.

No way on earth.

And no time like the present.

Her hand slid down the inside of his thigh and she purred, "My pleasure is your pleasure, Mr. Kennedy."

He murmured, thickly, "Tell me what you want, kid."

"I'd rather show you."

The car slid to a stop on the side of the road. Her fingers smoothed against his zipper. His slid around her ponytail to cling to it as she lowered her mouth to warm length of him.

Her lips curled over her teeth to protect the meaty girth as she bobbed up and down, up and down, up and down. His head dropped back on the seat. He surged her hips toward her. She eagerly tongued down the length of his di-

The sound of a horn blaring had her jerking in the seat.

She was staring at the flashing yellow light of a stop light over _Flountbast Street. _Leon smiled at her a little in the driver's seat. He was parking in front of a cafe called _Moose Tracks. _Lord.

He laughed a little, "Must have been a good day dream. Want to share?"

Fuck.

She needed a new hobby.

Fantasizing about Leon Kennedy was killing her.

Uncomfortably aroused, she sighed loudly. "Work stuff. What else? Ready?

She watched him head toward the diner. She watched his butt in the cute deconstructed jeans he wore. She sighed in the cold winter air.

Who was she kidding? There was no chance in hell that she'd ever put her hand in his pants and go down on him in the dark on the side of the road. She wasn't that girl.

She was his friend.

It would take a pretty rough set of circumstances to change that. All she had to do was keep her distance and she'd been fine. Seriously.

She could control herself.

Looking a little disgruntled, Leon hung up on the call he was one and headed back toward her. "Well..good news, bad news, kid. Which do you want first?"

Claire shrugged, "Good."

"Good news is the snow looks like it might just pass us by. Bad news is...the cabins they reserved? One flood this morning. They only have one left. How do you feel about bunking up?"

...seriously?

But even still. It was only one night right? She could handle that.

"You get the couch, Kennedy."

He laughed as they went to eat.

It was no big deal. She could handle it. One night with him on the couch. Cake. Easy peasy. No harm no foul.

It should have been simple.

It wasn't even close.

At six a.m. Claire wandered out to find Leon shirtless in sweat pants on the porch of the cabin they were staying in. She might spent too long staring at his muscled back...if it wasn't for the horror waiting beyond his perfect ass. The snow hadn't passed them by.

Nope. It had come with a venegance. Mountains of it. Piles and piles and piles.

He turned, coffee in his hand, and shrugged. He managed to look sheepish as he said, "So much for Minnesota weathermen huh? Looks like were snowed in, baby. Know any good jokes to pass the time?"

Claire blinked at him.

He shifted his shoulder again in a shrug and all ten of his perfect fucking abs shifted with his muscled shoulder. "I saw some board games in the closet. Wanna play_ Operation_?"

Was he kidding?

She was hoping there was _Twister. _

She was trapped in a cabin in a snowstorm with Leon Kennedy.

It wasn't a bad dream. It was a nightmare. She was being punished for some sins she had committed. This was surely the fight of her life here. She could do it. She could win this battle.

And her greatest battle had a tattoo of a dragon looped around his left shoulder. Apparently, it was breathing fire into her pants. All she knew? Snow or not. It was hot in this frozen wasteland. It was boiling. It was a slow descent into a stifling, soul searing endless inferno. Her hormones were ablaze. Her loins were burning.

She was trapped in a cabin with her best friend. She was trapped in a cabin with her secret obsession. She was trapped in a cabin without a dildo.

She was in hell.


	3. Claire the Vampire Layer

**Unrequited: The Story of her Life**

* * *

**A short story starring**

**Claire Redfield **

**and **

**Leon Kennedy**

* * *

**_Chapter 3: Claire the vampire layer_**

* * *

It was dark in the cemetery. The moonlight barely spilled dull and silver over the freshly dug graves. Her hands gripped the wooden stake in a sweaty embrace.

Any minute now, the dead would rise.

She was sure of it.

How? She'd had cramps all day. Apparently her period was a clear indicator of evil rising. PMS, in itself, was a clear indicator of something dark and rage filled, that much had always been clear. But usually it was associated with crying and ice cream, not the undead.

Claire felt the cold air creep down her spine and tingle against the pooling sweat of her clammy skin. Something bad was about to happen. She just knew it.

The cheer leading skirt she wore trembled in the teasing toss of wind and her white KEDS were brown on the bottom with mud. Her uniform wasn't holding up to the February chill, that was damn sure. Even the varsity letterman jacket she wore over her shoulders wasn't stopping the seeping damp from making her shiver in her spanky pants. She should have changed into something warmer before she'd ventured out into the dark.

That was the last time some old dude in a trench coat started blathering on about moles and destiny and convinced her to "face her truth" in an open graveyard.

Seriously.

Aloud, she whined, "I just want to go to prom, have sex with my boyfriend, and die. Why is that so hard to understand?"

Well, she certainly wouldn't be having sex in a fucking cemetery, that much was clear. Seriously.

She added, huffing, "Seriously. What a drag. Some homeless tells you you're the chosen one, points out some hairy old pock you had on your shoulder, and you just...waste your Friday? Seriously."

And then she heard it.

It rumbled. It grumbled. It shook the ground beneath her white feet and had her stumbling. There was a burbling sound of someone choking. The ground beside her tossed chunks of grass and sod up at her face.

Claire squeaked and stumbled back - and a hand shot clear of the dirt to grab for her ankle. She squealed. She kicked. She backed off and shouted, "NO WAY! No fucking way! What is the sitch!?"

And the ugly face of Steve Burnside poked out of the dirt to moan at her.

Horrible. Night of the living dead horrible. He was pale and looked hungry. He was smelly like shoes with old socks or a jock strap in the gym unwashed after a game. He was rank. He was nasty.

He was crawling toward her.

Claire squealed again and kicked at his face, "EW! You _wish! _I didn't let you touch me alive, Steve. You think you'll get a piece when you're undead!?"

And she drove the stake in her hands into the back of Steve. He didn't like it. The bones crunched. Blood didn't spray..it plopped. It splatted like jelly onto her white shoes.

Claire yelped, "You little douche! Those are _impossible _to clean! Seriously!?"

She ripped the stake from his back and drove it into his shoulder. Steve moaned and grabbed for her legs. He gummed at her shoes as she shrieked in rage, "No! Don't you chew my shoe, Steve Baker! You _homeless!"_

And the voice behind her advised, "In the chest, sweeheart. You ever known a vampire to die from a stake to the back?"

Steve flipped over to lunge for her, Claire stabbed him straight in his skinny chest with the stake, and he burped, grunted, and poofed into powder in a handful of seconds. It landed on her sloberry, gelatinous goop covered KEDS and turned them old red blood gray. Claire cursed, "Mother fucker! That's what I get! What am I _doing_ here!?"

"Fighting the undead, kid. What else?"

She turned. She opened her mouth to retort. She might have said something scathing and witty. She probably meant to.

But standing in a black leather duster staring at her was probably the hottest guy she'd ever seen. Ever. Maybe in her whole life.

Probably in her whole town. Raccoon City had _never _seen a guy this hot.

Seriously.

He tossed his mane of blonde hair and mused, "I'm Leon. Vamp get your tongue?"

And she couldn't even move as his teasing face switched to concern. He moved toward her, she nearly peed herself in excitement, and a pair of hands grabbed her ponytail and breathed the stench of old copper into her face. Instead, she slapped wildly at her attacker, and felt teeth graze the side of her throat.

Terrified, Claire battled with a shout of fear. She slapped and kicked. She didn't need to.

The hot guy in the leather coat punched the vampire trying to eat her right in its face. Right over her shoulder. He just...boom. Right in the snoot.

The vampire reeled, Claire staggered forward, and the hot vampire killer grabbed her to him. She clung, staring at him in a damsel's sheer delight, and the vampire got a stake in the heart for his trouble. He rushed them and her hero didn't even blink.

He just stabbed him right in the chest.

Poof - instant vampire soup mix.

Into the quiet, her savior mused, "He rang that dinner bell, huh? You were almost a Claire sandwich."

His face turned down to her, "You ok?"

And she stuck her tongue in his mouth.

She probably meant to reply. She might have meant to say something clever. Instead? She stuck her hands under his jacket and molded his back to her as she kissed him.

He didn't even resist. He just went with it.

His gloved hand slid under her cheer leading skirt and scooped, picking her up to set her down again on the lid of the stone sarcophagus near the mausoleum beside them. Her thighs open to let him walk between. They kissed wetly, hotly, in a cemetery infested with vampires. Maybe her belly cramping had been leading her to him after all. Maybe it was her uterus clamoring to be impregnated.

When he hesitated at her spanky pants beneath the skirt, she commanded, "Rip them. Ok? Rip them."

And he did that too.

He tore her panties with a nearly human scream of cloth. It was loud. It was perfect. Her heart leaped into her throat. Her mouth swallowed his tongue with each surge of it. Her hands freed him from his pants.

His belt clanked loudly as he claimed her. The coffin was cold under her bare ass. Her ankles crossed behind his calves as she slapped back against him to take him hilt deep.

Tawdry. Dirty.

Delightful.

His thumbs aligned beneath her chin to tilt her face up. She gasped his name, twice, and her thighs quaked. Her belly tightened again, so hard it hurt, but it had to be the orgasm she was chasing. Right?

His lips trailed down her throat, sucking and nipping. She gasped, clutching her ass in her hands to shove him inside of her. Her mouth opened, the orgasm turned her vision spotty, and his teeth flashed white in the moonlight.

His teeth...and his fangs.

She gasped, "No...god wait!"

And he didn't. He sunk his fangs into her pulsing throat. The pain hit the pleasure. Her belly seized hard and fast. And she came, grunting and jerking, flopping and gasping - and dying...as he sucked the life right out of her.

She begged and craved more.

She begged and died cumming.

She begged and w-

"-ok?"

Gasping, she slapped at the hands gripping her face. Her hips kept right on thrusting though, like the whore she was. She just kept on thrusting into the air like a desperate woman in the grips of a snuff fantasy staring the man looking down at her with concern painted all over his beautiful face.

Her ears popped, her clammy skin ached, her belly seized and he asked again, "It's a nightmare, Claire. You're ok. I'm here."

Jesus.

He was.

Her flushed face felt like it was throbbing. Her thighs were drenched with her own need. Surely he could scent that right? Like an animal?

Hoarsely, she gasped, "I...I-I'm fine. Ok? I'm good."

"You sure?"

No. Hell no.

She should make a joke or something. Right? These goddamn dreams were going to be the death of her otherwise. She should laugh and say something witty.

And he asked, "Does anything hurt? You were moaning."

Christ in a Buffy the Vampire Slayer hat. Was he kidding here? Nope. His face was dead...undead...serious. The beautiful creature that he was. He was so worried for her.

She was having a goddamn wet dream and he was worried. So was she, but not at all for the same reason. So instead, she murmured, "My belly hurts."

Concerned, he lowered his hand to gingerly palpate her belly. "Here?"

Lord. Her dry lips were licked twice before she could answer. "A little lower I think."

He pressed softly over her groin. "Did you pull a muscle, you think?"

Yeah she did. Her vaginal ones. Her sleep-gasm had nearly broken her pelvis. "Is it tender here?"

It was tender everywhere, she thought wildly as he asked, everywhere. She should do them both a favor and just let him go. Why did she keep torturing herself?

But she whispered, "Lower."

His hand slid toward her left hip and she shook her head. "No. Not there. Here." She gripped his wrist. She slid his hand back. She'd never have the balls to put his hand where she really wanted though.

Or maybe she would.

She slid his hand down over her wet mound in the shorts she was wearing.

Whore. She was. She was a straight up whore. There was no other excuse. She curved his hand against her and breathed, "Aching. All over. What do you feel?"

She watched the blood rush to his face. She felt it rush to her own. He could have pulled his hand back...but he pressed his fingers inward. His voice broke, he cleared his throat twice and charmed her, and answered, "Maybe it wasn't a nightmare."

"...no. It wasn't a nightmare. Leon?"

"...yeah?" Gruff. Soft. He turned his face toward her. His thumb swept over where her clit would be in those shorts. She made a small sound of need.

And she whispered, "Maybe you should check how tender I am._..inside."_

She tugged his face down at the same time he slid those shorts to the side and sank his thumb into the heat of her. They both moaned. Their faces pressed. Their tongues circled.

She thought, "Well...you've burnt the friendship bridge now, kid." And her hips surged against his hand.

Better. Better than all those dreams. This was better.

She tasted the smooth promise of whiskey on his tongue. He circled his thumb over her throbbing clit, delving between her dewy folds to pleasure her even as her hand slid down to join his as it plunged into her body. They fingered her together, rhythmically, and she surged her hips toward their paired palms while mewling around his tongue.

Their mouths broke with a pop. He shifted, shedding the leather jacket her wore to the floor with a tinkle of zipper and cloth. The short sleeves of his gray t-shirt showed his arms in the pale moonlight as he scooped her sideways on the cushions and settled at the foot of the couch.

She didn't ask. She couldn't. She gripped handfuls of his hair as he slid her shorts to the side and settled her thighs over his shoulders. Of course he was _that guy. _He was the guy that went down on you without being asked. More than? He was the guy who seemed to love it.

He shifted her hand to her clit to rub as he blew a hot breath over her throbbing lips and taunted her. Claire moaned. She whined a little as his tongue slid in to dual with his fingers for control of her body. Better.

Better.

_BETTER._

The orange shorts were bright against his pale hair in the soft gray darkness. She stroked herself as he dined at the apex of her body. Merciless, he twirled and flicked, licked and lingered. His tongue tortured and his free hand slid up her body. It went under her shirt. It found her left breast, palmed the whole thing, and squeezed.

Not easy.

Not gentle.

Hard.

Her nipple peaked into his palm. Her mouth opened and Claire grunted, "...shit. Oh...shit. _Shit_."

And her fingers flicked just right on her clit. Tongue, thrust, flick, tug - done.

She didn't do that. But she did cum. Hard. As hard as his hand plucking her breast. As hard as the twisting of his hair in her hands. She ground his face against her eager thrusting cunt and just came all over his sucking lips. The hands gripping his hair released to slap at his shoulders as she humped, gasping, "...oh, oh, fuck. _FUCK."_

She wanted to do that too.

He laughed softly against her jerking body. Her legs spaghetti noodle fell out to the side as the shock waves over took her.

Her shorts slid back as he leaned away and licked his fucking lower lip like a cat or something. It made her tummy clench hard. Why? He was _savoring her flavor._

It was hot as hell.

She gasped, shaking, thighs quaking, "...jesus christ...what was that?"

He laughed, rising, and moved toward the kitchen. "That was an orgasm, kid. You never had one?"

"...apparently not." She shivered on the couch, "Holy hell. I thought the dreams were good."

Leon handed her a glass of water. "Hydrate, kid. Trust me."

She grinned, shaking her head, "I feel like I might have pressured you into that. Maybe."

His brows winged up. His eyes twinkled. "Oh, yeah? Forced me, did you? Manipulated me like a virgin. I couldn't say no!" He shook his head and patted her shoulder, "You needed it right?"

Something flickered in her belly. What was it? And she mused, "...maybe. So this was what? A mercy thing? You get hungry and decide to try a Claire sandwich?"

He shrugged and chuckled, "It's a friend thing. You needed it. I was here. I like doing it. I helped you out. What are friends for huh?"

Holy...shit. It was pity. It was pity head. She was the girl who'd gotten pity head from Leon Kennedy. Her thighs snapped shut. Claire sat up on the couch.

The anger spread like fire through her belly.

"...wow. Ok. So..." She considered it, decided - what the hell, why not?- and threw the water in his face. "Go fuck yourself, you beautiful bastard. I'm _nobody's_ pity party."

She was about to toss Leon Kennedy out on his ass into the merciless snow.


	4. You are what you eat

**Unrequited: The Story of her Life**

* * *

**A short story starring**

**Claire Redfield **

**and **

**Leon Kennedy**

* * *

**_Chapter 4: You Are What You Eat_**

* * *

The water dripped down his face as he simply blinked at her in shock.

"Seriously, Claire. What the hell man?"

He sputtered. He gasped. Claire rose, an angry leviathan.

"You know what, Kennedy? You can keep your tongue in your mouth next time, ok? I'm not your pity fuck. I've got two hands and plenty of imagination. Don't do me any favors, got it?"

She shoved him aside and stomped toward the bedroom of the cabin. "And you can have the wet couch to sleep on, jackass."

Surprised, he cajoled, "Whoa whoa whoa. Hey...that's not-"

"Save it. Next time you want something to eat, help yourself to a real sandwich. This kitchen is _closed."_

She slammed the door. It felt good to do it. She slammed it and huffed, feeling the anger in her toes. Beyond the door, he soothed, "Claire...come on. It wasn't like that. Seriously? You think I go down on girls out of pity?"

"I think you go down on _everyone_!" She shouted back through the door, "And I'm the _only _one who you do it for out of pity! What's next?! You gonna fuck me and get me pregnant like a brood mare? My brother would like that! He's always wanted to be an uncle. He'd probably pay you to do it!" She paused as a horrible thought crossed her mind, "Did he pay you to fuck me!?"

"This is the dumbest conversation I've ever had." He sounded amused, "That's just retarded, Claire. Why would your brother pay me to impregnate you? You're being stupid, sweetheart. Come out here."

"You're stupid! And don't you _sweetheart _me, you...you...turd!" She shouted back and liked the sense it made...even as it made no sense, "You're stupid and blind and...BAD AT EATING PUSSY! Leave me alone! I don't need your damn pity fuck!"

Annoyed, he slapped the door and called back, "Hey! Number one - I don't _ever _eat girls out in pity, that's insulting as all hell. And two -I didn't fuck you, Claire. I went down on you. I liked it. You liked it. We're friends. It was good. Why are you being so weird about this!?"

She knew why. Because she was nuts about him. He didn't know that. He didn't know any of it. He was stupid and handsome and brave and _great_ at eating pussy...and just wanted to be friends. Friends who went down on each other.

It was a fantastic arrangement.

Why was she so mad?

Because she was a _girl. _She wanted romance. She hated that she wanted it...but there it was. She wanted him to _WANT _her in all capital letters. She wanted fireworks and passion and heat.

And no pity.

But would she settle for the pity?

Or maybe she could take friends with benefits and finally open his eyes to what was really here. Maybe that's how you found your way to Leon Kennedy's heart...through his dick.

She hesitated, considered, and opened the door. Leon arched his brows, studying her. "Forgive me. Ok? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to h-"

Claire shook her head. She gripped his shirt and dragged him in. "We're trapped in this cabin. There's no WIFI. There's nothing to do...but each other. How good of friends are we, Kennedy?"

His eyes twinkled. "Best, I think. Best friends."

"Yeah?" Her hand slid down and found him hard and ready behind his pants. She felt her skin flush as she mused, "I lied before."

"Oh, yeah?" Their mouths brushed. Her hand stroked him through his jeans.

"Yeah. You're really good at eating pussy."

Their mouths nipped. He pressed her into the wall. Her fingers found his zipper.

"I know." Arrogant little jerk...but he deserved it. He did.

Claire laughed, softly, "The thing is...I'm better."

Leon's head tilted. The clock ticked in the cabin. The red gold light of dawn spilled over his face and turned his gray eyes pink.

"At eating pussy?"

Claire dropped the zipper of his pants and reached inside to find him waiting for her. No underwear. He was the guy who didn't wear underwear.

Her thighs trembled.

And she vowed, "...with my mouth."

She dropped to her knees to show him.

* * *

There were benefits to being young. Two nubile bodies could do things that older ones simply couldn't. It was Claire on top and Claire on bottom and Claire on her side. They flipped upside down at one point and Claire tried to figure out how she could have sex curled on her back with her legs in her own face and her feet smacking the headboard somehow.

They did it against the wall, in the hall, on the table, and over the couch.

They spent a good portion of the day in some kind of sex acrobatics that she was pretty sure she was going to be sore for a week.

He ate yogurt off her belly and she showed him how she could put her legs behind her head. The kama sutra wasn't nearly as inventive. He might have been a genius, but the truth was that he was probably a god. How he managed to roll her up like a pretzel and still fuck her while he sat on her like a chair or something...she'd never know.

As they lay in the aftermath, Claire face down on the floor by the door and Leon collapse on his side against the dresser, Claire tried to remember why she was so upset previously. They were both panting as she wondered, "Can you feel your toes? I can't feel my toes."

Speculatively, he responded, "Nope. Or my dick. I think you broke it off. What was that twist and shout thing you just did?"

"It was something I saw on Animal Planet. It seemed to work huh?"

"Uh...yep. But I think I came so hard I blew an aneurysm in my brain."

She giggled into the carpet and flopped her sweaty face over to look at him. He was grinning at her. His perfect hair was sticking up in places and straggling wetly to stick against his soaked cheeks. Her mouth grinned as she said, "You look like shit."

He laughed, leaned forward to slap her ass until it clapped, and had her cursing him before he said, "Bath?"

And he rolled to his feet to pick her up around the belly and carry her one armed to the tub.

On opposite ends, Claire was washing his toes and watching him while he leaned there with his head back. His stupid body was ridiculous. She rolled her toes against his stomach to feel all the muscles. She felt like a fat lump by comparison.

Musingly, she asked, "Why aren't you married?"

His head rolled down and he arched a brow at her, "Seriously?"

"Yeah. I know why I'm not. I'm not sure why you aren't. You should have kids, Leon. Look at you."

Amused, he tilted his head, "What's that mean?"

"You're fuckin gorgeous. It's a waste of good genes for you not to populate the world with your perfect kids. Find a sweet blonde girl and settle down."

He chuckled and shook his head, "Don't be stupid. Who has time for a family with what I do?"

She shrugged and confessed, "I wish I'd had kids sometimes. I get lonely."

He studied her down turned face as she soaped his toes, "...why didn't you?"

Claire shrugged, "Life. Never met the right guy. I seem to have bad taste in men. I go for pretty faces over good hearts."

Ouch. He chuckled, shaking his head, "Message received."

She lifted her chin and blinked at him. Finally looked a little ashamed and told him, "I didn't mean you. Seriously. You're the package, Leon. Good and funny and hot. I like your company. We're friends, like you said. And I know I'm not really your type anyway."

Now his brows flew up into his hair, "...ok, I'll bite. Why not?"

She shrugged again, "I'm not tall. I'm not slim and beautiful. I'm kinda short and dumpy and a ginger. I do ok, and I'm fine with my looks. But you've never bothered to really glance at me before so..."

Now he just felt bad. Into the silence, he told her, "One - if you call yourself short and dumpy again, I'm gonna get pissed. Two - I looked. All the time. I just didn't touch you."

Curious, she asked, "Why not?"

"...because you're my friend. I might be a bastard, but I'm not a fucking bastard, Claire. I don't fuck my friends."

She smiled, gently, and wondered, "Then what are we doing here?"

He grinned and returned, "I think I'm being a bastard. But in fairness? Your tits in the bubbles right now? I'm just a mortal man, not a saint."

She laughed, sighing, and said, "So I'm easy and here, right?"

Now he licked his teeth, praying for patience, "No. Ask yourself who put their mouth on who first."

Her eyes came up and locked on his. He nodded, winking at her, "Yeah. Not pity, Claire. And red? It kinda flips my switch."

She rolled her eyes, "I heard that about you. You like your girls in red."

His hand shifted into the water. It slid against her thigh and palmed the heat of her. Her eyes crossed as he told her, "...I like my girls red...above and below."

Her thighs opened as he swirled between them. She put her hands down his back to grip his ass and cooed, "Yeah? You like a little fire crotch, do ya?"

And he was laughing right until he put himself inside of hers.

* * *

Curled over his lap, straddling him to face him, Claire looked right at him as he slid his fingers over her. Her voice was high and breathy as she instructed him, "Good. Good. Now put your index finger on my clit..._like that..._oh, shit, yeah...like that. Good."

His mouth kissed gently at her jaw line as she told him, "Ok...now slide your other two fingers inside of me and j-" Her voice cut off on a high little keen. She gripped his lower back and moaned, "...fingers. I said fingers, right?"

"...I figured we'd cut to the chase." His voice was low and gruff.

She turned her head to kiss him before her back bowed. He tucked his fingers against her clit, put his face against her neck, and surged into her. One, two - and done. She slapped his back twice as she came. She cursed like a sailor and had him laughing as she shoved him down on his back to ride him like a wild stallion.

When he was close, he tried to roll her off him and she pinned his arms above his head and told him, "Don't be a boy scout. I'm on the pill."

So he curled their hands together, she anchored her body, and they slapped together fast and hard until he grunted and shot his load so hard he was surprised it didn't blast her off him and pin her to the ceiling. She fell left, he groaned and twitched, and the soft wet sound of his dick sliding out of her made her tremble.

She grunted, "...you take instructions realllll well, Kennedy. I won't be even slap you down for getting ahead of yourself there. This could be the start of a beautiful friendship."

He laughed and rolled over atop her while she giggled.

* * *

Their marathon-muffathon ended in a snowball fight and passing out on the floor by the fire. She woke up once with his face between her thighs, came slow and almost softly, and fell back asleep cradling him there while she trembled.

They took a shower, she went to her knees to repay the favor, and spent the rest of the morning drinking coffee and leafing through the paper naked.

While he took a nap on the couch, Claire stood over him to chew her lip and stare. Even in repose, his body was all muscle. She sighed and told his sleeping form, "...I love you, you fucking idiot."

And she went to take a bath alone.

How did she leverage all this sex into love? He was a complex man. He wasn't looking for love. She knew that. They were good friends. They were compatible. They were clearly GREAT in bed.

How did that equal love?

As she soaped herself, she winced a little. All the great sex in the world eventually ended in a sore cunt. Try as she might, she'd probably have to pull the plug on all the fucking until that abated a little.

Which meant what? They'd be forced to face their feelings here. They'd have to talk.

Could she talk him into loving her? He might be blind to her feelings, but was he immune? What if she just...told him? What happened? What if that meant he'd freak out and leave her all together?

She hated the idea of him not being in her life.

Was she willing to settle for his friendship and the occasional fuck?

Maybe. What if that was all she'd ever get?

She glanced at her face in the mirror and said, out loud, "It's better than being without him." She meant that. She did. She'd trade a lifetime of nothing special for a few moments of wonderful. Pathetic or not, that's how it was.

While she was bathing, she heard him in the kitchen firing up the stove to cook. He hummed. He talked to himself. He was utterly adorable. She was hoping that he'd be trapped here with her long enough to realize his world was better with her in it.

Otherwise?

She'd just have to find another way to worm her way into his heart.


	5. Big Booty or Claire's Pooty

**Unrequited: The Story of her Life**

* * *

**A short story starring**

**Claire Redfield **

**and **

**Leon Kennedy**

* * *

**_Chapter 5: Big Booty or Claire's Pooty_**

* * *

"It'll work."

Claire gave him a narrow look and returned, "...I don't think I believe that."

Leon's look was stern but unflinching, "...trust me."

Since she did, without question, she lay back on the bed and watch the crown of all that dirty blonde hair between her legs. The first touch of the cold ice cube in his mouth made her squirm and almost shout at him to stop, and then his cold tongue snaked up inside of her. Her mouth opened on a gasp, she started to protest, and he eased the whole cube up to join his tongue.

It was hard to decide how different it felt to let all that cold touch your warmest nether parts. Claire was so busy enjoying the drastic change in temperature that she didn't even notice until another piece of ice was laid right on her clit that her body loved it. He rolled that cold cube, she humped at his face, and she realized he'd somehow managed to soothe her at the same time he aroused her. She hated, alot, that his reputation was well and truly earned.

Shivering, she gasped, "I _hate _how good you are with pussy."

He grunted out a laugh, opened her legs by pushing on her knees obscenely, and just helped himself to her tender engorged lips. When she came, her body seizing around the ice he slid inside of her and the cold fingers he used on her throbbing love button, he leaned up until he was kneeling between her legs and she quivered. She warned him, "I can see what you're planning, you dirty bastard, and it won't work. I'm too sore."

He took her hands, hooked them behind her knees for her, and informed her. "That's not the only hole you have."

Yep. Pervert. She laughed and whimpered a little when he used his fingers to stretch her opening. He ran the ice in his hand all over her exposed oval and she finally gasped, "...don't you _dare."_

The cold ice trickled down the crack of her ass and his finger stroked her there and Claire dropped her legs, snapped her legs together, and warned, "...I'll kick you off this bed, Kennedy, I swear to god."

He shrugged, pulled her hip to roll her to her belly, and jerked her hips up while he face was down on the bed. When she protested, he told her, "Just let me soothe your angry red cunt, Redfield, and shut up."

Claire couldn't stop the laugh that ended on a moan as he eased his cold fingers in and out of her.

This wasn't helping. She really had to stop this. She should yell her love for him and watch him run. It would work. She knew him so well she knew just how to get rid of him. His finger stroked over her other hole and she shouted, "I'll cut those fingers off!"

He laughed and shifted behind her. She started to warn him again and he just filled her full of his dick inside. Her cold pussy sucked him right in, her mouth opened on a shout of pleasure, and he hammered her. Not gentle.. Not even a little bit. He hammered her body until her hands flew up and braced on the headboard to stop the top of her head from smacking into it until it made her unconscious.

Inflamed or not, her body took his dick like a sleeve made of pleasure. The cold made them both excited. She threw a hand back to grab his wrist and he caught her belly, tugged her up, and turned her. They kissed wetly over her shoulder as he put his cold hand down, down, down and played with her while he destroyed her. She warned, high and loud, "...I'm gonna -"

And she did. She came, he shoved her down to doggy style while she bucked, and he slapped her ass as he basted the inside of her body like a turkey on Thanksgiving. She mewled, he grunted and shoved his thumb in her ass, and Claire shouted, "Bastard!"

As she bucked back on him with each wonderful clench of her body around his.

When she plopped face down, he collapsed atop her while she made an _ooof _sound. On her face, muffled, she cursed him, "...pervert. You like that?"

He put his mouth beside her ear and promised, "Next time? The whole dick, darlin. I'm gonna make your bowels _love _me."

She couldn't help it. She just started laughing. He laughed with her until they were both breathless and he rolled to the side. She let him gather her front to his back and slide his hand down to grip the bowl of ice and start rubbing it against her sopping, throbbing, happy and hurting pussy.

Amused, she moaned when he soothed it, "You ever get tired of fucking, Kennedy?"

He put his lips beside her ear again and told her, "The weather says more snow ahead, Redfield, you're about to find out."

She needed to get out of this bed. This wasn't helping either of them. He turned her head to the side and tongued her mouth of his shoulder. She felt the throb of that in her belly.

She lifted her leg to let him rub his wet dick against her cold and swollen heat.

Apparently, she was going to keep letting him fuck her until she simply couldn't take him anymore.

She wasn't sure who the was idiot - him, because he was too blind to see _why _she'd let him. Or her, because she just didn't want to do anything else but see how long she could hold out before he pussy gave up and fell off.

He was still kinda hard when he slid into her body. She whimpered and thrust her butt down to let her sore heat swallow him.

Stupid.

That's all there was to it.

* * *

"What do you think about starting a band?"

Claire glanced up from the bath tub where she was sitting. He was standing in the door way watching her, naked, and his damn dick was already semi-erect against his belly. She pointed at him and said, "You say a single thing about a skin flute and I'll slap the shit out of you."

He grinned. She gave him a dirty look and he told her, "It's snowing. Wanna watch it together?"

Claire shifted in the tub. She should say no and kick him out. She should start letting things die off between them. She didn't really think he'd love her after she let him plow her until she was bow legged...did she?

But her mouth said, "...absolutely."

They stood in the doorway of the cabin with him behind her wrapped around her and a big blanket wrapped around them both. The snow fell white and wonderful as the day turned to evening. She leaned back against him while his hands caressed her tits and mused, "...what happens when we leave here, Leon?"

He kept on playing with her tits and asked, "What do you want to happen?"

She sighed. She took a deep breath and confessed, "I want you to never stop touching me."

Surprised, he glanced at her face until she turned her head. He still played with her breasts and mused softly, "You wanna be fuck buddies, Claire Redfield?"

She scanned his face and returned, "No. I want you to be my guy, Kennedy. Just mine. No sharing. What do you think about that?"

He tilted his head. She kept her face blank. He finally felt his smile lift as he answered, "...you gonna let me fuck you in the ass?"

Her mouth twitched. She pursed her lips and gave him an evil look and he grinned as she remarked, "...you say yes, and I just might."

Eyes twinkling, he turned her in the blanket toward him and it tumbled to the floor. The cold rushed in, he pressed her into the wall, and her breasts flattened to his chest and he told her, "It's a bad idea, Claire, with what we do. You know that. It's doomed for failure."

She nodded. Her hands slid down and grabbed his ass and he caught her face to tilt it up as she groaned, "...yep. Bad idea. Couldn't possibly end happy...say yes and let's go down in flames."

His grin flashed again. He laughed and shook his head. He kissed her with their eyes open watching each other and finally chuckled, "Why the hell not? But I think you like it better when I go down in ice than flames, sweetheart."

Her laugh was soft and happy, "...you're an idiot."

"So they tell me."

"...I'm not saying you have to love me, Leon. I'm just saying...be faithful."

He tilted his head. She waited. Finally, he returned, "What are you afraid of?"

Her smile wilted and she finally confessed, "Not what..._who."_

They stared at each other until she filled the silence, "We do this...I want her gone. Don't chase her. Don't sniff around her. Don't fucking touch her again. I don't share. Do you understand me?"

He looked so studious. His expression was considering. She felt like he was about to interrogate her before he spoke, "Deal...on one condition."

Claire arched her brows and he demanded, "You let me fuck you in the ass."

Claire twitched her mouth and wondered, "Does Ada?"

He felt his lips turn up and joked, "...nope. Probably why she's never caught me and kept me either."

Claire shook her head. She leaned up as he leaned down and kissed him. When it ended, she sighed and slid away from him. He tracked her, eyes flashing with want, and Claire moved to the couch, crooked her finger at him, and leaned over the back of it.

Her pretty bottom was lifted and waiting. She looked over her shoulder and mused, "...tell you what...if you can take it...you can have it."

His dick bobbed with excitement as he drawled, "A challenge?"

"Hmm."

"You know what I can do right?"

"Oh...I've read the reports."

"I eat little things like you for breakfast."

Claire slid down the hallway as he started after her and cooed, "...promise?"

He started running, she yipped and took off like a shot, and their laughter filled the cabin. Well, she thought wildly as he rolled over the bed and she ran around it to escape, she had him.

She just wondered how long she could keep him.

* * *

She wasn't sure that her bowels loved him exactly, but it wasn't as bad as she'd imagined. He'd been surprisingly gentle as he'd invaded her virgin territory and laid claim to uncharted land. After she'd gotten over the feeling that she was about to shit herself, she'd figured it wasn't all that bad.

When it was over and she lay on her back with him between her legs and his head on her chest, she mused ,"...I don't get it."

Amused, Leon leaned up to look down at her, "...really?"

"Nope. It's weird. Mostly uncomfortable. I don't like it at all. Why do you?"

His eyes sparkled as he shrugged, "It's tight."

Insulted, Claire pointed her finger at his nose and gruffed, "You saying my pussy ain't tight?"

Chuckling, he shrugged again, "Not as tight as an asshole, kiddo. That's just the truth."

She shoved him off her and rolled to her feet. The moment she stood, she grunted, "...great. Now my asshole hurts. Fantastic."

The sarcasm was thick it made him chuckle again and call after her, "There's more ice in the freezer if you need it!"

Claire muttered under her breath and went out into the snow. She sat right down in it, yelped in surprise at the inert feeling on her aching butt, and Leon leaned in the doorway grinning, "That good huh?"

"...let's not make this a regular thing, ok?"

He shrugged, "I can't promise anything."

Claire rolled her eyes and rose when her butt was frozen. She walked like she had a diaper full of shit on and made him chortle as she dumped herself on the sofa. He picked her up instead and took her right into the shower where he washed and soothed her.

They had dinner naked and sat in front of the fire until they fell asleep.

When she was sure he was sleeping, she whispered, "...I only let you fuck me in the ass because I love you."

To her horror, with his eyes closed, he whispered back, "...what would you do if I asked you to marry me?"

Claire yipped and slapped a hand over his mouth. He opened his eyes and grinned behind her hand as she warned him, "You pretend you didn't hear anything I just said, do you understand me?"

He shook his head: no. She straddled him on the floor and caught his hands. She held them over his head and said, "I take it back."

"Too late. It's out there."

Claire, panicking, returned, "It was the heat of the moment. This stupid cabin. This bubble we're in. It won't last."

"I think it's been last a long time, Redfield. You think you're a good faker?"

She said nothing as he added, "I'm a human lie detector, sweetheart, I've been trained to read body language like a book. I knew how you felt that first night in Raccoon with you staring at me like I was the second coming."

Shocked, she whispered, "Then...why did you wait?"

His smile was soft and kinda sad, "...you left."

"What?"

"You left...you left me. You just left...so I let you go."

They stared at each other until she picked up his arms and slapped them back on the carpet and cursed, "Leon Kennedy...you are a fucking stupid bastard of a brilliantly beautiful man."

He narrowed his eyes and wondered, "Was that a love confession or a declaration of war?"

She grabbed his face and told him, earnestly, "I told you I'd come back. I promised...but you were gone."

He grabbed her wrists and told her, "I didn't have a choice. I had to."

"I know that. I do." She tugged and he sat up until she was sitting in his lap and they could cling to each other as she begged, "You have to forgive me, Leon, for that night. He was my brother. I didn't know...I couldn't...I thought you'd both just find some place safe and wait. I was young and stupid...and he's my _brother."_

Leon caught her face and tilted it back to see him. He shook his head and soothed her, "You don't owe me an apology, Claire. It's done. None of us knew a damn thing back then. It's not a reason to apologize, it's just an explanation. You left and let you go. That's it. That's what happened."

She looped her arms and legs around him and offered, "So keep me. Don't let me go anymore. Keep me, Leon. I won't ever leave you again."

His hands scooped into her hair. He put his face in her neck and she tried to see how tight she could hold on. The snow blanketed the world beyond their little cabin. They minutes ticked away as the fire crackled.

Nobody let go.

Nobody left.

She whispered, "...I love you. I think I've loved you from the moment I met you."

He laughed softly and confessed, "You were the only thing that night that never failed me, Claire. Going after you brother? That's what family does. The second you left me? I started loving you too. Because that kind of devotion - the kind that brings a girl into a burning city to find her only family...that deserves it...but if you leave me again, I'm going to fuck you in the ass every time I see you."

She laughed, her voice broke on a happy sound, and she kissed his ear and promised, "...deal."

Apparently...her love had never been unrequited after all. Turns out the boy she'd loved, had turned into the man who loved her right back. Sometimes, it seemed, reality was better than dreams after all.

* * *

**Post Note:** _This sweet little fluff and love tale is at it's end as well. I'm feeling the rush to have happy endings lately. So, this is theirs. Somebody encourage me to explore more cleon, would ya? I keep letting the horrible dynamic of Leon in the remake throw me off of any affection for them as a couple. I was rereading Reckoning and remembering how much fun they can be if I just ship them with the right kind of fire._

_Alas, a Jilleon devotee I am, and yet I can't leave Claire without her happy ending. Of all the girls in the series, she's the most maternal and the softest to me. She needs a happy ending. _


End file.
